The TitanForge lobby was the same as ever. Shiny, loud, full of people pretending they mattered. The only thing different was me.
I walked in and felt the stares. Of course they stared. They were used to seeing a ghost in old clothes: faded jeans, old sneakers, a sweater that looked like it needed therapy. Now they were looking at a man in a suit that fit, who walked like he had a right to be there.
I ignored them. Their opinions were like weather reports for a place I'd already left.
I hit the elevator bank, and of course, there they were. Sasha, Grace, and Riley. The unholy trinity.
Grace's eyes went wide. She nudged Riley. "Damn. He looks hot."
Riley squinted. "Who's that?"
They whispered, not thought. They didn't even recognize me.
Then Sasha's gaze locked on. It took her a second. Her perfect face twisted up in confusion.
"Wait. Terrence Holt?"
I glanced at them—barely.
"Oh wow," Grace breathed out, her voice low and genuinely impressed..
Sasha gave me a slow, head-to-toe scan, her voice coated in that familiar superiority.
"Why… how… what's with the new look? Are you trying to belong or something?"
My vision lit up with DES options:
> Available Countermeasures:
• Dismiss: Inform subject her opinion holds no measurable value.
• Crush: Target insecurity, deliver direct verbal strike.
• Cut: Undermine her social credibility.
I didn't hesitate.
DES said she had no direct influence over my job. And even if she did, DES Corp was literally paying me daily now.
So I chose the cruel one. The coldest one. The one old Terrence would never have dared to think, let alone say.
I looked at her dead in the eyes, my face blank.
"Relax, Sasha. I didn't dress for you. You're not that important."
My voice was flat. No anger, no heat. Just a fact.
She froze. Like I'd just switched her language to one she didn't speak.
Grace choked back a laugh. Riley looked like she wanted the floor to eat her.
DES pulsed quietly:
> Action Executed: Crush
Outcome: High Impact
The elevator arrived. I got in first and turned, holding the door open with my stare.
I lifted a single eyebrow, mirroring her old gesture of contempt back at her. "You coming," I said, my voice flat, "or no?"
Sasha couldn't do it. Her pride wouldn't let her stand next to me in a box.
Grace didn't have that problem. She slipped right past Sasha and stood beside me.
"Grace," Riley whispered, her voice tight with warning.
Grace just looked at her, mouthed a silent 'What?', and didn't move an inch.
The doors closed. Just us two, going up.
She stood close. Too close for the old me. The old me would've been sweating, heart hammering, brain short-circuiting.
Now? I felt nothing. Just the hum of the elevator and the faint smell of her perfume. It was quiet. Peaceful, even.
I looked at Grace as she stood next to me in the elevator. DES immediately tagged her:
> Target Analysis: Grace Timber
Age: 25
Current Position: Marketing Coordinator – TitanForge International
Influence Level: Low
Analysis: Authority is moderate within Marketing, negligible outside department
System Note: Target authority cannot suppress or nullify user rights to act in accordance with objectives. Emotional intimidation is measurable but does not restrict system-guided responses.
She cleared her throat, glancing at me. "I'm Grace."
"I know," I said, watching the numbers climb.
She nodded, biting her lip. Then, after a beat, she added, "I didn't… I didn't know you could look like this?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
She shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. "Cool."
Her thought slipped into my head, clear as a bell: {Oh my God… he's so cold. It's… soooo hot.}
I froze for a beat.
Grace Timber. The girl from Marketing who looked like she was carved from ice and old money. The one who'd always been part of the wall of noise laughing at me. And her first real thought to my face was… that?
Interesting. So the perfect mask had a crack. And the crack liked the cold.
Just then, DES flashed a new, context-specific prompt in my vision:
> Social Leverage Opportunity Detected.
Target is assessing your relational status. High-value for perceived scarcity.
Recommended Disclosure:
• State Unavailability. "I'm seeing someone." (Increases challenge, long-term play.)
• State Availability. "I'm single." (Direct invitation, accelerates timeline.)
Note: Truthfulness irrelevant. Strategic outcome is priority.
My mind flickered to Yuri. The loyalty metric, the shared night. It wasn't a relationship. It was an acquisition. A separate ledger.
Technically, I was single. And technically, I'd be telling the truth.
The cleanest lies are the ones that aren't lies at all.
I glanced at her, my expression unchanging.
"Not that it concerns you," I said, my tone dry, factual. "... but I'm single."
Her heart rate spiked. DES tagged it: [BPM: 72 → 108]
But her face stayed smooth. "Good to know."
Her thoughts, however, betrayed her: {Was that for me? Play it cool Grace. It's just Terrence Holt. But he looks so hot.}
I noted it all; her heart rate spike, her attempt to stay composed, every unspoken reaction. The advantage was clear.
The elevator dinged. My floor.
I stepped out. Just before the doors closed, I spoke without looking back.
"I eat lunch at the café across the street. One o'clock."
Then I walked away. The doors shut, cutting off whatever look was on her face.
It wasn't an invitation, at least, not officially. But for anyone who already had those thoughts swirling in their head… it might as well have been.
DES clocked the move. A notification blinked across my vision:
> Social Initiative Logged.
Move: Status Disclosure + Open-Ended Proximity Offer.
Result: Target engagement secured. Psychological leverage established.
Outcome: Favorable. Timeline for escalation accelerated.
Stat Adjustment:
Strength: 5 → 6
Agility: 6 → 7
Vocal Tonality: 6 → 7
Charm: 45 → 55
Confidence: 55 → 65
Sex Appeal: 60 → 70
[Desirability Score: 33 / 100] → [Desirability Score: 45 / 100]
The numbers scrolled like a silent confirmation of the upgrade. The suit wasn't just fabric; it was a catalyst.
I walked to my desk, the new stats a quiet hum in my veins. The old Terrence would have been replaying the encounter, dissecting every word for hidden meaning, hoping for a sign.
I felt nothing.
No hope. No anxiety. No longing for a signal. And in that void, everything became clear.
Human reactions weren't mysteries; they were outputs. Predictable, manipulable outputs.
DES didn't just give me power, it had surgically removed the need to care.
And that was the greatest upgrade of all.
---
To be continued...